Pilgrim (55 page)

The two magicians, the two
unknown
magicians, were never far from the Demons’ minds. Now another had joined their ranks.

Several paces back, tied at his wrists by a short rope leading from the tail of StarLaughter’s mount, WolfStar grinned.

“It is the StarSon,” he said, hoping his taunt was truth. Caelum was all they had left now! “Moving against you. Caelum. Remember the name, for it will be your nemesis.”

“Fool!” Mot hissed, and WolfStar doubled over in agony, but not before he’d heard the fear in Mot’s voice.

It was all that enabled him to survive, for as the Qeteb-man had spent himself inside Niah, so Mot had taken his lengthy pleasure with WolfStar.

Something out the corner of one of Faraday’s eyes caught her attention and she turned slightly.

“Drago!” she screamed without thought. “
Drago!
”

Startled, Drago twisted about and looked at Faraday and stared, stunned.

She was pointing to a hilltop in the south-east, but Drago could not tear his eyes away from her. In Faraday’s excitement, her crimson cloak had fallen open and now flew back from her shoulders in the wind, tangling with the long tresses of her heavy chestnut hair.

Underneath the crimson cloak Drago saw that Faraday had finally abandoned the rough-woven peasant dress and boots. Instead she wore a white linen robe, startling in its simplicity, that fell in a deep vee from her shoulders to a plain leather belt about her waist (in which, he noted, was stuck the arrow he’d shot earlier), then in thick folds of drapery to her feet, now clad in light leather shoes elegant enough for the most discerning of queens.

Drago slowly ran his eyes back up her body to her face. It was alive with excitement, her green eyes sparkling, her mouth slightly open, tendrils of hair drifting across forehead
and cheeks. He had never,
never
, imagined she could be this lovely, this magical.

How could his father have ever treated her as he had?

“Drago!” Faraday shouted again, her finger stabbing impatiently at the hilltop.

Slowly, reluctantly, Drago swung his eyes about…and stopped, even more stunned than he had been at the sight of Faraday.

At the top of the hill reared Belaguez. Stars foamed about his head and neck, and streamed in a great banner from his tail. The stallion screamed, reaching for the sky with plunging hooves, and the faintest remnant of pink dawn light caught his body, turning the Star Stallion red, and his mane and tail into raging flames.

“It is time,” Drago said, and made a curt, sweeping gesture before him, like a scythe mowing sweet spring meadow grass.

With that motion he cut the supports of the enchantment. A gossamer web fell slowly, inevitably, surely from the sky, trapping the entire twenty thousand under its enchanted light.

Above, the stallion dropped to all four hooves, stared, and then disappeared down the far side of the hill.

“
L
eagh! Faraday! Will you join me? Bring the blankets.”

The women picked up the blankets where they’d laid them on the ground, reassured Zared and Theod who paced about agitatedly just inside the cave mouth, and began a careful descent of the hill. Every now and then they would pause and survey the scene before them. It was light now, and the mass of creepers were clearly revealed.

All of them lay still and silent under the enchantment, although eyes still rolled, and occasionally a hand or shoulder twitched. The net lay over them like a glowing silvery haze, its delicate strands barely visible.

As they neared the foot of the hill, Drago held out a hand to aid them the final pace or two.

“Leagh?” he asked, his eyes concerned. “How do you feel?”

“Tired,” she said, “but not too tired. What do you need us to do?”

“Would you know Gwendylyr if you saw her?”

“Yes. She and I played as children, and I stood at her side when she married Theod.”

Drago nodded. “Good. Faraday, do you know DareWing?”

She hesitated. “It has been many years. I knew him as a Crest-Leader when I was,” she dropped her eyes, “with your father at Carlon.”

Faraday paused, then looked up at Drago through half-lowered lashes. “But I think I would know him again.”

Drago stared at her, then collected himself. “Good. We need to search for the three that I can bring back, and separate them from the others.”

“There is no need to ‘search’,” Faraday said, “for are they not lost? I will lead you straight to them.”

“Then why didn’t you say so in the first place?” Drago said, angry that she had allowed the conversation to drift on long enough so that she could again mention the time she’d spent in his father’s bed.

“You were too busy organising!” Faraday snapped, and then took a deep breath as Leagh stared at her incredulously.

“I am sorry,” Faraday said. “It has been a bad night.”

Drago gave a curt nod, accepting her apology. “Then find them.”

Herme stood at a safe distance from the rosy dawn light spilling in the window in his chamber and fidgeted.

Something was not right.

Naturally, little had been “right” for months, but today the “feel” of something
else
not right was very, very strong.

“Ah!” he said, and turned from the view. “Guard!”

The door opened and a well-armed and armoured guard entered.

“Fetch Captain Gustus.”

The guard nodded, and closed the door behind him. Within five minutes Gustus, captain of Zared’s home guard, entered the room and saluted.

“Gustus.” Herme indicated the barely touched breakfast table. “Have you eaten?”

“Hours ago, Sir Earl.”

Herme paused. “I like not this quiet, Gustus.”

“Aye, sir. I know what you mean. The multitude outside is waiting. And more than waiting. They are ready.”

For what?

Herme looked at him, noting that, like the guard outside, Gustus was fully armed. “How many men stand as ready to fight as you?”

“The
city
stands ready to fight,” Gustus said quietly.

“They may have to,” Herme murmured, then hit his fist on the windowsill in his frustration. “Gods!
Where will they attack?
”

And where was Zared? Where Drago?

Faraday hoped she would never have to repeat this experience again. It took over an hour of walking among twitching, fetid bodies, placing each foot carefully so that she did not slip on soft flesh or glimmering enchantment, before she found the three that Drago wanted.

She found Goldman in only the first few minutes. The Master of the Guilds was curled in a tight ball only four or five ranks back from the now-silent Katie, covered in what appeared to be a self-woven coat of twigs, leaves and the skins of at least four rabbits.

Faraday imagined they had not died well, but at least Goldman looked strong and well-fed.

Gwendylyr was harder to find because she’d crouched under a pile of gorse bushes torn loose by the mass during its crawl towards Katie, but, she, too, looked in good condition, although she had several scratches over one shoulder.

There were no signs of her two sons close to her.

Faraday found DareWing last. Like Goldman, he’d tucked himself into a tight ball, and then wrapped his wings about himself so that he was almost unrecognisable. They were tattered and torn, as were his forearms and chest, and he breathed shallowly and rapidly, as if he’d developed a lung infection.

“Drago!” she called, and he carefully picked his way over.

Drago squatted down by the Strike Leader’s head, pushing back the gossamer strands of enchantment until the birdman’s face was free.

DareWing snarled weakly, but made no move to bite or snap, or even to raise his head.

Drago put his hand on the birdman’s forehead, then ran his hand gently down his cheek to his chin, tipping DareWing’s face to his so he could look him in the eye.

“Well?” Faraday asked.

“He has not done well crawling about the ground,” Drago murmured. “He has picked up a ground fever, and it has run rampant through his body.”

“That was not what I asked,” Faraday said sharply.

Drago raised his eyes and stared at her. “Do not blame me for every wrong that has ever been visited on you, Faraday. I am guilty of many things, but of you I am
innocent
!”

Faraday’s face flushed and she dropped her eyes and turned her head slightly away from him. Drago continued to stare at her for a few heartbeats, watching the flush on her cheeks and neck deepen, then he relented. “DareWing has had an ancestor somewhere in his not-so-impeccable pedigree who strayed, it seems. He carries Acharite blood.

“But,” Drago dropped his eyes back to the birdman. “His fever is very, very bad. He may not live, whatever I do for him.”

He fell silent, continuing to stare at DareWing, his fingers digging deep into the birdman’s chin.

Eventually, Drago sighed. “I have no choice. DareWing could be the saving of this land if he survives the fever.”

“Why?”

Drago looked back to Faraday. “Are you sure you want to get into a conversation with me, Faraday? Wouldn’t that be dangerous? Might I not use the opportunity to imprison your soul in the frightful chains of betrayal?”

She said nothing, but her jaw tightened, and her eyes grew hard.

“All I want to offer you is love, Faraday. It is your choice whether or not you ever decide to trust me.”

Then he stood up, not giving her the opportunity to answer. He hefted the staff in his hand and whistled to gain the attention of the feathered lizard, which sat by Katie’s side.

It looked up, but did not move to join him.

Drago drew a symbol in the air, something far simpler than Faraday expected, and from his spot by Katie the lizard retraced the symbol in the air with light, not once, but three times.

Three visible enchantments of a deep violet light appeared, one hovering over each of the three Drago had selected.

He reached for the one over DareWing and pulled it down, wrapping it over the birdman’s hands. Then he gently disentangled the grey gossamer strands of the holding enchantment until DareWing’s entire body was freed.

“Help him up,” Drago said to Faraday. “The enchantment about his wrists will make him tractable, and he will obey whatever you tell him to do. Walk him through this crowd until you reach the open space just behind Katie, then sit him down.”

And before Faraday could answer, he’d turned and walked away, signalling Leagh to join him by Gwendylyr.

Faraday briefly watched him walk away, then bent down and pulled DareWing to his feet. The birdman stumbled, but he stood obediently enough, and responded to Faraday’s hand on his arm.

“Come, DareWing,” she said, and led him through the twitching mass towards Katie.

As they made their careful way, Faraday saw that Leagh now led Gwendylyr towards the same spot, and Drago was occupied with Goldman. By the time she had pulled DareWing into the open, Leagh and Drago already had their charges waiting.

“Sit him down,” Drago said, and pointed to where Goldman and Gwendylyr sat. He turned his back on her, busying himself with the sack at his side.

“Drago,” Faraday said, not moving to seat DareWing. “I am sorry.”

He slowly turned around. “Do you trust me not to betray you?”

Faraday’s face worked, and her eyes filled with tears. She dropped her face.

“Noah told you to be my trust,” Drago said quietly. “
I
am sorry you cannot do that.”

“Faraday.” Now Leagh was beside her. “Come, now, bring DareWing over.”

Faraday nodded, and sat the birdman down. “You must wonder what is going on,” she said, quietly enough that Drago could not hear.

“I have been through it myself,” Leagh said gently. “I do not need to wonder.” And she patted Faraday’s arm sympathetically.

Once Gwendylyr, Goldman and DareWing were seated in a close group, Drago and the lizard worked the same enchantment they’d executed for Leagh.

This time, both Faraday and Leagh—their cloaks whipping back in the wind to reveal their simple white robes—helped him stretch the single enchantment over the three, and anchor its edges to the ground so that they were enclosed.

Then Drago withdrew the mixing bowl from his sack, and, slowly circling the enchantment, again drew pinch after pinch of what appeared to be dust from the sack which he put in the bowl.

“Do you know what this is?” he asked the two women.

Leagh just shook her head, accepting that whatever Drago did was sorcery beyond her ken, but Faraday thought deeply, her forehead creasing in a tiny frown.

“You have collected all sorts of things that you dropped into that sack,” she said. “A piece of bread that you took from Leagh, leaves from Minstrelsea forest, dirt from several different places—”

“A lock of your hair,” Drago said, and smiled a little at her.

Faraday ignored his smile. “You have pieces of Tencendor in that sack.”

“Yes.” Drago’s smile widened fractionally. “Good.”

“You are using…Tencendor’s magic, the magic of this land, to work this enchantment.” Faraday bit her lip, still thinking. “But why Katie’s blood?”

The girl had now moved to Drago’s side, a bright crimson drop welling on the tip of her forefinger where the lizard had again obligingly pierced her skin.

“Don’t you know?” Katie herself said, pausing to stare at Faraday.

Faraday shook her head, and the girl’s face fell and she turned back to Drago silently, and added her blood to the mixture.

Drago accepted the blood, kissing Katie gently on her forehead, then stirred the mixture with his staff. Faraday opened her mouth, wanting to demand that either Katie or Drago tell her
what
the blood symbolised, but she did not dare interrupt the enchantment, and so she closed her mouth and remained silent.

Drago lifted the staff from the bowl and traced its end over the lines of the enchantment.

Instantly the scene about them flickered and faded, and Faraday found herself standing again in the field of flowers.

Turning, turning, turning as the flowers caught at her robe, turning to see the man who smiled and held out his hand for her.

The Demonic Hour of dawn had passed, and Herme took the opportunity to walk off some of his frustration and sense of impending doom to inspect the city’s defences and state of readiness against…against
whatever
it was that that howling horde outside might have planned for them.

Herme sincerely hoped that Drago and Zared would get back before the expectation in the air finally erupted. He was
too old and set in his ways to cope with a situation this…abnormal, and without Drago’s help in evacuating the Carlonese through Spiredore into this Sanctuary, then they were as good as dead if the animals managed to break through the city’s defences.

He checked his wife and family, making sure they were in an easily defensible section of the palace, then joined Gustus and Grawen, another of Zared’s men, in an inspection of the defences down one of the city streets.

Initially, the mood of the Carlonese heartened Herme. These people were not wide-eyed with fear, but narrow-eyed with determination. All the population, save the very young and the bedridden aged, had armed themselves as best they might against any attack.

Women held brooms and pans in white-knuckled grips, men had homemade pikes, clubs and blades. Children, ever inventive, had a variety of slings, stones and, down one street, a complex system of oil-filled barrels set in place.

“Any hoofed creature, or crawler, comes a-running down
this
street,” one bright-eyed urchin informed Herme, “he’ll get a slippery shock for sure!”

Herme grinned, and tousled the youngster’s hair, then followed Gustus and Grawen inside a tavern, inspected the main rooms, then clumped down the cellar stairs. Unlike the atmosphere outside, here the tension and fear were palpable.

“Well?” Herme asked.

Two soldiers and the tavern keeper were crowded inside the cellar, and they glanced among themselves before one of the soldiers answered.

“Sir Earl,” he said, hesitated, then simply pointed into a darkened corner of the cellar.

Herme turned and peered, and the soldier thrust a burning brand a little closer to the corner.

There was a cat crouched in a far niche, its head almost buried in an all but invisible crack in the floor.

It was growling softly.

“Gods!” Herme exclaimed. “That’s one of Drago’s cats!”

Gustus nodded. “We’ve found them in several of the cellars, sir Earl.”

“Then, by the gods! Get extra men in and about those particular cellars!”

Even as he finished speaking, there was a thunder of feet above, and then the cellar stairs were crowded with some thirty heavily armed soldiers.

“Already done, Sir Earl.”

Herme nodded, and turned back to the cat. “Can any of you hear anything?”

The soldier shook his head. “We’ve crouched down by the cat, but have heard nothing save her growls. Cats have got better hearing than us, anyhow.”